


Mojo

by drownedinblissfulconfusion (tundraeternal)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Light Bondage, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:51:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tundraeternal/pseuds/drownedinblissfulconfusion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean discovers that sex with an angel is like nothing on earth. Basically PWP, angel-style.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mojo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plantainleaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantainleaf/gifts).



> Many thanks to Plantainleaf for the beta!

It’s late one night in the bunker; Sam has gone to bed, and Dean is washing the dishes before heading off to sleep himself. He sings a little Zeppelin under his breath, wiggles his hips in time to the beat, just because he feels like it. It’s been a good day. They finished up a hunt yesterday and came home in time for Dean to get a great night’s sleep on his own mattress. He grilled some frankly awesome steaks for dinner tonight--Cas even complimented his recipe--and for once in a blue moon everything seems relaxed and quiet. Dean left Cas wandering the rows of books, which can usually keep him happy for hours, but as he rinses the last plate he feels a familiar tingle between his shoulder blades. He turns to see Cas in the doorway, watching him. Dean doesn’t mind; it doesn’t even startle him anymore. It’s just the way Cas is, and that’s okay because he’s family now. Dean turns around, leaning back against the counter, and gives Cas a wink and a grin. 

“Like what you see?” He’s feeling playful, can’t help indulging in a little teasing.

“Yes, I do,” comes the gravelly reply.

Well, that backfired. It’s hard to tease someone who’s so freaking literal all the time. Dean wonders if there’s anything he could say that would make the angel stammer or bring a blush to his cheeks. The idea is intriguing. In the meantime, Cas is still standing in the door, just staring. 

“What’s up, Cas? You need me for something?”

“No. I missed your company. I thought I would come in here to be with you while you perform your evening ritual.” And damned if that doesn’t make Dean’s heart melt a little. 

“Evening ritual’s about done now. Unless you wanna come watch my brush my teeth.” 

“Alright.” 

“I didn’t mean it.” Dean huffs with laughter.

“My apologies.” It’s not quite a stammer or blush, but Cas does look a little confused. 

“It’s okay, man.” And it is. These things don’t make Dean uncomfortable the way they used to. Actually he’s pretty flattered. “You really like hanging out with me so much you’d just stand around watching me brush my teeth?”

“I enjoy watching you, Dean,” he says softly, “I thought you knew that.” 

Dean’s heart speeds up. They’ve been dancing around this conversation for months, but they haven’t managed to actually delve right into it. Maybe now’s the time. He just wishes it didn’t make him feel like a girl on prom night, all butterflies in the stomach. 

“Come over here. Stop lurking in the doorway, it’s creepy.” Of course it’s not actually creepy, but it’s ridiculous for them to stand on opposite ends of the room to talk to each other. Cas obliges, as he always does when Dean asks him for something. And, as usual, he comes to stand just a little too close. Although Dean suspects that at this point, he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he does it on purpose. The casual observer probably wouldn’t notice, but Dean swears the angel is smirking. It’s a very unangelic expression. 

“Cas, do you know how hard it is to have a normal conversation when you’re standing six inches away from me and staring at my mouth?” 

“Why is that, Dean?” Oh yeah, he’s definitely doing it on purpose, the bastard. This is less of a conversation and more of a power struggle. Time for Dean to ramp up the game. 

He grabs hold of Cas’s tie and looks him straight in the eyes. “You’re the ancient, celestial being. Why do you think?” And Dean could actually shout in triumph, if it wouldn’t break the mood, because there’s an actual blush creeping up Castiel’s face and reddening his ears. 

Before Dean can feel too proud of himself, though, Cas leans in to whisper, breath hot against his ear, “I think it’s because you desire me. As I do you.” 

That’s not the kind of dirty talk Dean is used to, but damn, it works. He feels like he’s on fire from the inside, and his knees are suddenly too weak to hold him up. He realizes that until this moment he actually had no idea whether Castiel actually felt that way, whether he was even capable of it. Arousal and relief make him dizzy. Suddenly Cas’s mouth is on him, lips and tongue lapping at the corner of his jaw just below his ear, and if Cas hadn’t placed strong hands at his waist, he might just collapse slowly onto the floor. Dean anchors himself with one hand still gripping Cas’s tie, and the other holding the back of his head, fingers splayed through dark hair. He pulls away until they’re face to face again, and kisses his mouth, open and hot and needy, with teeth and tongues. Dean can hardly breathe but he doesn’t care, just drinks Castiel in like he’s dying of thirst. 

Dean has wanted this for so long; he can’t even admit to himself how early this really started. And he is not a man who’s used to waiting for sex. In his world of one night stands, it’s either a yes or a no, and the most drawn out flirting he does is maybe over the course of a day or two if they’re staying someplace on a hunt. So he never really realized how sweet the anticipation can really be, how much the gratification is enhanced when it’s something you’ve been thinking about for ages. It’s not a conscious thought for him now, of course; he’s way past conscious thought. All he can think is, ‘finally!’ and he wonders whether it would be worth it to take the long steps to his bedroom, or whether the kitchen table could use a little action. 

Cas, luckily for the table, takes the decision out of his hands by stepping back and shoving him towards the door. They only stop to kiss in the hallways three or four times before they make it to Dean’s room. They’re barely inside when Cas throws his hand back, and the door is shut and locked in an instant, and he and Dean are pressed together again. 

They seek contact at every possible point, their bodies wound around each other as thoroughly as they can be, no space between. Cas grips the back of Dean’s neck, keeping him close, and Dean hitches Cas’s knee up around his own hip to give them friction so good he thinks he can taste it. Hands are pushing and tugging and longing for skin against skin; usually the undressing is one of Dean’s favorite parts, but right now there’s just too much clothing, and it’s all in the way. There will be time for seduction some other night. Tonight is too desperate. Dean is trying to summon his remaining brain cells to remember how buttons work, when Cas growls low in his throat and makes a gesture, vanishing their clothes in an instant, making Dean gasp. Suddenly his cock, aching hard, is pressed flush against Cas’s, trapped between the heat of their bodies, and for a second Dean thinks he might actually come just from thinking about it. 

“Dean,” Cas gasps, and Dean remembers that for all sexual intents and purposes, Castiel is a teenager experiencing this for the first time. If Dean thinks _he’s_ close, there’s no way Cas is gonna last long. It gives him the willpower to step back, taking one last soft kiss, and push Castiel gently down onto the bed, where he stretches out, chest heaving as he catches his breath, and watches Dean move over him. 

Dean pushes Cas’s legs apart and kneels between them. He runs one hand down Cas’s chest, then dips his head and follows the trail with his tongue; licks across one pink nipple, drawing a ragged gasp from Cas, then takes the other into his mouth and sucks. The gasp turns to a moan and Cas writhes beneath him, drawing his knees up, hands reaching for Dean’s shoulders to knead firm muscle. 

Dean hums with pleasure and bends his head lower. He presses a kiss to Castiel’s hip, then wraps a hand around his cock. He runs a thumb softly along the underside, and Cas throws his head back. The noises he’s making are pure sex, and all Dean wants is more. Gingerly--he’s never done this before, though he certainly knows how he likes it done to him--he wraps his lips around the head of Cas’s cock and runs his tongue up over the slit, still sliding his thumb along the shaft. Cas cries out and his hips jerk, his hands still gripping Dean’s shoulders. 

He pushes Dean back, breathing hard, and looks into his eyes. “Dean. Do you trust me?”

It’s generally the kind of question that makes Dean worry that he shouldn’t be trusting someone. But this is Cas, naked and vulnerable in his bed, with love in his eyes. “Yeah. Of course.” 

And Cas begins to glow. His wide black pupils turn white; his skin seems luminescent. Dean couldn’t shut his eyes if he wanted to; it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And he does trust Cas. If this were dangerous at all to Dean, he wouldn't be doing it. 

"Whoa." 

"I want to touch you as myself. Not just with my vessel's senses." As he says it, Cas reaches up to brush a hand along Dean's cheek, and it's like nothing he's felt before. It's hot, but not burning; sharp, but not painful. Like low spangles of electricity just under his skin. It feels amazing, and he covers Cas's hand with his own and leans his cheek into the touch. 

He can feel the sparkle of touch from the other parts of Cas's body now, from the knees pressed against his hips, the hand on his shoulder, and through Cas's chest where his own fingers still rest. He draws his fingers slowly down, and he can't be sure, but he thinks the places where he's touched glow faintly brighter for a second. He leans down to kiss Cas's shining mouth, hesitantly, but Cas arches up against him, and he's enveloped by the glow. It emanates from Cas's body everywhere, and Dean feels it suddenly against every nerve, like he's swimming in fireworks. A jolt of it runs down his spine; he feels his dick tighten and thinks he's about to come, but the feeling doesn't intensify, it just waits, rolling small waves of pleasure through him. 

"Cas!" he gasps. 

"Is it too much?" He feels the pressure of it recede slightly, looks into Castiel's worried eyes. 

"No, no, I just- I don't know what to do. It feels incredible." He's panting, his fingers curled into Cas's skin. 

The feeling abates a bit more as Cas raises himself onto his elbows and slides up along the bed. "Lie down." He nudges Dean over until their positions are reversed; Dean on his back, and Cas above, straddling his hips. Dean slides his hands up Cas's ribs, feeling the tingling running from his fingertips up his arms. But before he can touch anywhere else, Castiel has captured his wrists, pushing his hands away, holding them above his head on the pillow. And with a smile, Cas draws his hands away from Dean's wrists, and flicks his fingers, and Dean realizes he can't move his arms. 

"Hey, that's not fair! You're making me feel better than anything's ever felt before, but you're gonna tie me up with invisible angel rope so I can't even touch you?" He struggles slightly, but Cas's smile is so sincere that he can't really bring himself to be annoyed. 

Cas leans down to kiss him, and murmurs into his mouth, "Dean, I want to bring you pleasure. Let me do this for you." 

Dean feels prickles behind his eyes that must be Cas's mojo because they are definitely not tears, despite the fact that no one has ever said anything like that to him. His natural instinct is to reach for Cas, but the angel-binding stops him before he can move, so he just rolls his eyes, and relaxes. 

Clearly, that was a good decision. Cas is smiling, happier than Dean's ever seen him before, and Dean decides that alone would be worth doing anything he asks of him. But that's before Cas starts working his magic. The tingling warmth is spreading through Dean again, building more slowly this time, but it's not just that. Cas is using his hands, gliding along Dean's skin on a cushion of energy. He strokes down Dean's chest, thumbing over his nipples, then runs his fingers down Dean’s sides just softly enough not to tickle. Every place he lays his hands it’s like he leaves a bit of energy there, and even after he’s moved his hands away, Dean can still feel his touch. Cas moves his hands lower, brushing over Dean’s stomach, which makes him moan, and then onto his hip bones, which makes him call out Cas’s name. Inch by inch it’s like his skin is lighting up. With energy left behind from his touch, he can feel Cas everywhere on him at once, slowly overloading his senses; he’s not sure if he can even take it, but it feels so good that he’s going to ride it as long as he can. 

When Cas slides his fingers over the insides of Dean’s thighs and up into the soft hair at the base of his cock, he thinks that might be the end of him. He cries out and bucks up against Cas’s palms; his cock twitching and glistening, still aching hard. It’s almost the only part of him that doesn’t feel smeared in that golden light that Cas’s hands leave on his skin. 

“Cas, please. Please. Touch me.” He’s so close, all it will take is one touch and Dean’s going to be flying. But instead he lets go and moves back. 

For a moment Dean is confused, until Cas grasps his legs under the knees, and pushes, shifting his hips up and his legs apart. He then grabs Dean’s hips, lifting him straight up--and lets go, leaving Dean literally in mid-air, his back no longer touching the bed, his legs wrapping around Cas’s back just to try to find some purchase in the real world. 

“Cas! What the hell, man?” Dean couldn’t possibly feel tense, suffused with this angelic glow as he is, but damn, this is weird. 

“Dean, do you still trust me?” 

He looks into Cas’s eyes, still shining white, almost too bright to see. “I--yeah. Yeah.” He’s come this far, after all, and what he’s gotten in exchange for trust is the most intense pleasure he’s ever felt. Worth it.

“Good.” Cas bends over him and slips arms around his back, kissing along his collarbone. So now he’s being held aloft by Castiel’s superhuman strength, but at least he’s not floating on nothing. It’s a bit of a relief, and he relaxes into it, sliding his legs along Cas’s back, trying to bring their cocks into contact again. 

This very rational plan is completely driven out of his head as Cas strokes incendiary touches down Dean’s back and along the cleft of his ass right to the underside of his balls, making Dean moan. He does it again, and again, deeper each time, the sensation playing along Dean’s skin before sinking in beneath the surface. It’s at this point that Dean realizes that Cas still has both hands flat against his back, holding him up, and so either he’s grown some extra arms, or this is pure angel mojo running along his skin. Then the energy reaches his hole and pushes inside, and Dean realizes that he couldn’t care less how Cas is doing it, as long as he doesn’t stop. 

“Holy shit, Cas!” The tendril of mojo is rubbing him from the inside, slick and slippery. It pulses, filling him and then releasing, and with each pulse something strokes that hot tight spot in him and makes him want to scream. 

“No one will hear you here, Dean,” Cas answers his unspoken thoughts, but Dean can’t be bothered to mind the mental intrusion. “You don’t need to hold back.” 

With that, the whatever-it-is withdraws, brushing Dean’s sweet spot once more, and he lets out a noise, half caught in his throat as he suddenly feels too empty. But the feeling only lasts a moment before Cas, his lip caught between his teeth with the effort, positions his own cock against Dean, and pushes in. It’s so agonizingly slow that Dean tries to shove against him to make him move faster, but with nothing to brace against, all he can do is moan as he’s filled. 

Slowly--much, much too slowly at first--Cas begins to move inside him, rolling his hips as he pushes in and slides out. His fingers press into the flesh of Dean’s shoulder blades as he finds their rhythm. He tips Dean very slightly backwards, and with each thrust the head of his cock brushes just right, sending spikes of liquid pleasure all through Dean’s body. He realizes he _is_ screaming now, each time, and Cas is chanting his name. 

When he feels a warm tightness wrap itself around his cock and pull, just slightly, twisting wetly up the shaft and over the head, once, twice, that’s it for Dean. Every spark of pleasure that Cas has left on his skin spreads to meet every other spark, engulfing him in a lattice network of sensation; he feels his body clench around Cas, who shouts and releases himself, hot and white and glowing deep inside Dean. The glow overtakes him from within and he shuts his eyes, bathed in light, and whites out. 

Dean wakes up a moment later, back in the hold of gravity. He’s flat against the bed, with Cas sprawled on top of him, still buried in Dean’s ass. Apparently angel orgasm overrides angel bondage, so he can move his arms again. He wraps them around his angel and strokes his hair. 

“Hey, you okay?” He’s not sure if Cas is awake or not, but at the sound of Dean’s voice, he groans and shifts. 

“Mmmmmmm.” He nuzzles his forehead into the crook of Dean’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, me too.” He presses a kiss to Cas’s temple and smiles, feeling lazy and heavy with bliss. 

“Dean?” Cas rumbles against his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for allowing me this. You are a remarkable man.” 

Dean holds Cas a little bit tighter, and if the tear that slides down his face isn’t really tinged with angel mojo, well, no one needs to know.


End file.
